Jumping In

I crossed my arms over my chest, protecting my frantically beating heart, and gingerly peered over the edge at the water below. Quickly, I stepped back. Holy crap! Nuh uh. Nothing doing.

I took a deep breath, uncrossed my arms and, again, took a small, scared step forward. Once again I peeked over the edge. Once again I rejected what I saw, furiously shaking my head. Yes, I desperately wanted to be able to hang out at the pool sans adult supervision. And sure, I’d completed the other requirements to receive my pass. I swam the length of the pool. I treaded water. I did the dead man’s float. But this? This was not happening.

In the background I could hear the ever-encouraging words of my ridiculously patient mom – and just about everyone else unfortunate enough to witness this little scene.

“Come on, Sarah, you can do this. It’s not that far. Just breathe. Just JUMP!”

I sighed. I looked again, hoping the water level had miraculously risen five feet. Nope. Still an ungodly distance away from my perch. Fear won and I turned around and made my way back to safety. Was I embarrassed? Sure. But at least I was without a broken neck. Screw embarrassment.

Those who know me won’t be surprised by this story. It’s a well known fact that I’ve spent much of my life hesitant to approach the unfamiliar. Scared of all things new. Easily stressed by unforeseen bumps in the road. Overwhelmed by tiny details. My family loves to recall the days when I wouldn’t even go ask for a packet of ketchup in McDonald’s. The waitress brought me the wrong order? No worries, I’ve always wanted to try whatever the heck this dish is. Trip to the mall at Christmastime? Forget about it – large crowds induced panic attacks. Besides, Christmas is too commercialized. Shouldn’t we be spending our time praying for the needy - at home, alone, away from crowds?

I’ve since grown up quite a bit and I would say that I’ve come quite far from that pathetic girl on the diving board (my mom would never use the word pathetic, but let’s be honest people, that is a sad, sad story). I’ve matured, attended college, lived abroad, and generally become much less annoying about trying new things. And yes, I finally took the plunge and earned my pass to summertime freedom. Looking back, I wish that I’d jumped a little bit sooner. But, what’s done is done so I’ll choose to laugh at the memories of yesterday and try not to miss out on so much today.

That’s not to say that there aren’t times when I have to consciously force myself to breathe before overreacting. I have to remind myself that, like so many times before, odds are that I will enjoy whatever it is I’m about to do. There have been very few instances where I’ve pushed myself - or have been emphatically “encouraged” - to do something that I ended up really disliking or regretting. Large crowds still sometimes send me into the initial stages of panic. I still become unreasonably overwhelmed when I feel I’m being unnecessarily rushed. But nowadays I find it easier to calm myself, refocus and keep moving forward.

Now, I know that no one has actually asked me for advice, but too bad. I feel like dispensing some. Ready? This is deep. You’ll never guess what I’m about to say…

Just freaking JUMP! Odds are you’ll enjoy whatever’s waiting for you beyond the point of fear. Odds are you’ll wish you had done it sooner. Odds are the jumping will become easier and easier from here on out.

Unless, of course, we’re talking about a literal skyscraper or facing off with a ninja, in which case perhaps you should back off the diving board friend.